


Book #15

by jamesgatz1925



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Romance, Teen Lestrade, Teen Mycroft, Teenagers, hate then love really, mystery romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1858320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesgatz1925/pseuds/jamesgatz1925
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft hates his literature class. It's not even remotely interesting, not when the science lab is only a door down. The faint chemical fumes (none harmful) spill through the vents and just make him ache. He'd do anything to have science class seven hours a day, none of this literature nonsense, definitely not the art class he needs to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It was supposed to be a one-shot, it ended up an eight chapter story.  
> From the prompt on tumblr: "sharing a high school school textbook and leaving each other notes and answers in page corners au".  
> The entire story is General Audience, but there are a few bad words here and there.

Mycroft hates his literature class. It's not even remotely interesting, not when the science lab is only a door down. The faint chemical fumes (none harmful) spill through the vents and just make him ache. He'd do anything to have science class seven hours a day, none of this literature nonsense, definitely not the art class he needs to take.

Mycroft sighs as his teacher instructs the class to turn to a certain page. A room away, they're adding sulfur to a solution. Mycroft can smell it.

He has the same book every single day, it just being habit (or compulsion) to grab book #15. He honestly hates this book. Every single day he has the same daydream of flinging book #15 out of the second story window he stares out. He quickly flips the pages, not caring when one rips.

Mycroft really had no idea that anyone else ever used this book (he always put it a shelf below everyone else's), so he's surprised when he finds a paper stuffed into the spine of the page they're supposed to be reading.

Confused, he unfolds the paper.

"Hi."

Mycroft glares at the page.

Hi?

Hi?

The word mocks Mycroft. "Hi" is such a pleasant greeting, to think that anything could be pleasant in this room is a joke.

He stuffs the paper back into the page and continues reading, trying but failing to ignore the note.

He doesn't know why it irks him this much. The note, the simple "hi" has made him so angry that he can't focus on the work he's supposed to be doing (not that he ever has ease working in this class).

Finally, the distraction overcomes him. He unfolds the paper, forcefully scribbles "Hello?" on the line next to the "hi", folds the paper again, and puts it right back where it was.

* * *

 

The next time, Mycroft tries to look for any signs that his book was moved, but there are none. Whoever has his book before (or after) him is very good at putting it back exactly where it was.

Mycroft eagerly takes the book back to his seat and finds the paper again.

"How are you?" the note says today.

Mycroft is annoyed again. After all the buildup (he really couldn't stop thinking about that stupid note), that's all he gets?

Mycroft decides to give more than the simple question wanted to know.

"How am I?" he writes. "Unhappy, in fact. Bored. I hate this class. I hate reading poetry, I hate analyzing stupid pointless words when I could be doing something so much more useful."

Mycroft finds his little rant adequate, so he folds the paper up and puts it back.

Right before the bell rings, he quickly writes, "How are you?" below all of that, finding himself worried about seeming rude to not ask back.

* * *

After literature is lunch, thank goodness. The quiet of the courtyard just outside the lunch room is absolute bliss after a class like literature. And the solitude always gives him a chance to prepare his brain for science and math, which is what his afternoon is packed with.

Mycroft sets his tray of food down on the bench before shucking off his backpack and sitting next to it. He pulls a book from his bag, then begins to read while blindly reaching for the sandwich on his plate and bringing it to his mouth. The world around him disappears, just the way he likes it.

He reads peacefully for a few minutes, getting eighteen pages further in his book and halfway done with his sandwich, before his book is violently punched out of his hand from behind. He looks to his right, where the punch came from, at the same time his sandwich is yanked out of his left hand.

Mycroft just sighs as another boy steps around to face Mycroft in the front.

"What? You're not going to say anything?" the sandwich thief asks.

"Am I going to fight you over a sandwich? No, I'm not."

The boy laughs and steps on Mycroft's book, then kicks it feet away.

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "I really can't believe that you have nothing better to do than to torment me, Gregory."

Greg laughs. "Surprisingly, I have nothing better to do."

Mycroft gets up and walks over to retrieve his book. "And where is the rest of your bonehead posse?"

Greg shrugs. "I don't know. Flirting with half the school by now, I bet." He lifts his leg onto the bench, resting his foot on Mycroft's backpack.

"And you're above all that," Mycroft says. It's not a question.

"I like older girls," Greg replies with a smirk.

Mycroft chooses not to point out that the fact could be that he isn't interested in girls at all, frankly because Mycroft doesn't care. Anyway, he knows that trying to taunt someone with homosexuality isn't a joke, it's nothing to tease someone with.

"I'm sure," is all Mycroft says, not in a suggesting tone at all.

Greg drops the last bite of Mycroft's sandwich back onto his tray, then picks up the apple still there.

"You're an animal," Mycroft mumbles, disgusted.

Greg grins and chomps down on a large clump of apple, the juice squirting out of the sides of his mouth and through his teeth. Mycroft rolls his eyes.

"Please leave," Mycroft says. "Now that you've successfully ruined my lunch in more ways than one."

Greg takes another bite of apple, then takes his foot off of Mycroft's backpack. "It's always a pleasure, Holmes," he says, opening Mycroft's backpack and dropping his half eaten apple into the bag.

Mycroft glares as Greg wipes his hands on his jeans.

"See you around, loser."

Mycroft huffs. "See you around, arsehole."

Greg laughs loudly, then wanders back into the building.

* * *

The next day, Mycroft is happy to find an answer on the piece of paper.

"I'm fine," it says, "I don't particularly love this class either, but it's something we have to do, you know? What's your favorite class?"

Mycroft doesn't know why, it's not like he's having a real conversation with a person, but he's glad to actually talk to someone at school. He never talks to anyone except for the stupid bullies (Lestrade and his friends), so this is nice.

"Science and math," Mycroft writes. "I like actually thinking. What about you?"


	2. B/G?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh well, he thinks, leaving class. It was fun while it lasted."

The day after that, Friday, Mycroft gets to class early to get his book. He runs into the room and grabs his book, but his teacher speaks up before he sits.

"Mister Holmes, our books aren't needed today."

Mycroft frowns. If the mystery writer has class before him, chances are they didn't reply. If their class is after his, then at least he gets yesterday's reply.

"Right," Mycroft says. "I just forgot a paper in here. I'll put the book back when I'm done."

The teacher just nods and goes back to her papers, leaving Mycroft alone with his.

Luckily, there's a reply.

"I like math, but I'm not very good at it. My favorite subject is gym, if that counts. Do you like gym? PS, are you a girl or a boy?"

Mycroft's already figured out that the mystery writer is a boy, judging by the scratchy stroke of pencil. Mycroft also knows he's left handed and nearsighted (their words are very small, whereas someone farsighted would write bigger to be able to see).

"I am male," Mycroft replies. "And I know you're male. And that you should also get your eyes examined. So you like gym? Can I assume you like sports?"

Mycroft leaves class disappointed. He won't talk to this mystery writer all weekend, and who knows if the boy will even reply now that he knows Mycroft is a boy, too. Maybe he was hoping for a girl, someone to be interested in romantically, not just friendship (like Mycroft).

 _Oh well,_ he thinks, leaving class.  _It was fun while it lasted._

* * *

At the end of the school day, Mycroft is very excited to get out of school. Weekends are his 'me-time', of course. He spends all weekend either alone in his bedroom or with his nine-year-old brother, helping the younger boy do experiments or school work. Mycroft loves it, it's the highlight of his week.

Unfortunately, getting out of school quickly would be too easy for him. He rushes around the last corner leading to the front doors when he bangs right into Greg.

Mycroft groans.

"Watch where you're going, dork."

Greg's friends laugh.

"Insults original as always, Greg."

Greg steps around Mycroft, stepping on Mycroft's books as he goes, and also flicks Mycroft in the ear. Mycroft grimaces and rubs his ear, hearing Greg's horrid laugh as he walks down the hall.

* * *

By Monday, he's pleased to find a reply on the paper.

"I thought you were a girl because of your fancy handwriting. Either way, it's quite lovely. And thanks about my eyes, I have an appointment tomorrow. Also yes, I love sports. I play football. You don't like sports?"

Pleased, Mycroft writes back. This time, he asks the mystery boy what his favorite book is.

The rest of the week is passed talking about things like books, movies, music, food, and other hobbies. Mycroft is very happy every time he sees a reply from the mystery boy, and he's so glad he has someone to talk to at school. And he and the mystery boy have so much in common, that just makes it that much better.

"Students," Mycroft's teacher says on Friday at the end of class. "Don't forget that next week is Fall Break. The rough draft of your term research paper is due on Monday when you return!"

Mycroft frowns. He forgot about break. A few weeks ago he was so excited to not have to go to school for a week, but now he's a bit sad. A week away from his mystery friend.

On a whim right before Mycroft puts his book away, he scribbles his mobile number on the bottom of the page. He doesn't expect anything, but at least he tried.

* * *

At the end of the school day, Mycroft practically runs out of the building to his bicycle (his mother thinks he needs exercise). He's excited to go home, and after Greg made a fool out of him in the lunch line, he really wants to forget about everything and leave.

But of course, that would be too easy. He gets out to his bike and finds the tires flat. On top of that, the caps that hold the air in are missing.

Mycroft frowns and gets down on the ground to look for the little caps.

"Lost something, Holmes?"

Mycroft slowly stands and brushes his jeans off. "I'm not in the mood, Lestrade."

"I wasn't done in the lunch room today."

Mycroft grins. "Finish too soon? That a common problem?"

Greg glares at him. "Funny."

Mycroft laughs. "I thought it was."

He turns around and walks away, back towards the building.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Back inside to wait for a cab because some arsehole ruined my bike."

"I thought it was funny."

"Yeah, I'm sure you did."

Mycroft is aware that Greg is following him.

"Leave me alone," Mycroft says over his shoulder.

"What if I don't want to?"

Mycroft quickly turns around. "What is your sick obsession with me? Just leave. Me. Alone! I get that I'm an easy target but you need to get over this stupid thing you have out for me."

"I pick on you because it's so funny!" Greg says, almost laughing.

"Funny? Fucking with my life is  _funny_?!" Mycroft is angry now. "I could fucking punch you, Lestrade, I could."

"Yeah? Go on then."

Mycroft pants three times, then pulls his arm up to take a swing at Greg. He throws his fist towards Greg's face, but Greg catches his hand before he makes contact. In the same motion, Greg pushes Mycroft's chest so hard that Mycroft stumbles back.

"Umf!" Mycroft sounds, the wind getting knocked out of him. Before he can stand up straight, Greg winds back to retaliate the punch.

"Go ahead," Mycroft pants. "Just fucking hit me already so you can get it out of your system."

Greg snaps forward and Mycroft winces, but the punch never comes. Greg just stands there, his hand lifted over Mycroft. His expression is distant, like he doesn't know what he's doing.

"Yeah," Mycroft says. "That's what I thought. Leave me the fuck alone."

Mycroft turns around and walks back to the building, this time he knows Greg isn't following.

Mycroft calls a cab and they tell him it'll be ten minutes, so he sits on the front steps outside to wait. Only a second after he hangs up with the cab company, his phone vibrates with a text.

His stomach flips. He doesn't get texts. He never talks to anyone.

It flips again, over and over, when he sees it's from an unsaved number.

"Book #15?" the message says.

Mycroft smiles. "Yeah, that's me," he replies.

"Thank goodness. I was hoping you didn't fake number me."

"Do people do that?" Mycroft asks.

"All the time. To people they don't like."

Mycroft continues smiling. With such pleasant conversation, he forgets all about the incident with Lestrade.


	3. Meet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft slams his locker shut and turns to Greg. "No, as a matter of fact, it's not because no girl wants to go out with me," he says, stepping past Greg. His stomach flips with nerves and he adds, "It's because it's not a girl."

The entire next week is spent texting almost all day. The only time they pause is when the mystery boy has football practice or a match, but Mycroft doesn't mind.

They find out more about each other, and find that they have a lot more in common. Conversation is easy, it never dwindles down to just texting "yeah" or "okay" or "cool". They talk nonstop about interesting topics and Mycroft is glad to learn so much about a person.

* * *

On the Sunday night before school is to start again, Mycroft is getting ready for bed while still texting the mystery boy.

"Can I tell you something?" the boy asks.

"You've been telling me things all week."

"Haha. I meant something…private."

"Sure," Mycroft replies.

He doesn't get a reply for a while. He has enough time to brush his teeth, wash his face, put on pajamas, and to get in bed before he gets a reply.

"I just…I'm really starting to like you."

Mycroft's stomach fills with butterflies. Nobody's ever liked him before, and he never expected the fact to make him so happy.

He wonders if he likes this mystery person, too. Honestly, he was happy just to have a friend, and whether or not that went further was irrelevant. It still is, now that he knows this person likes him. He just wants a friend.

And really he hadn't put much thought into it, because other than texting almost 24/7, there isn't much flirting that goes on. Their conversations are strictly friendly.

Unless they are flirting and Mycroft just doesn't know it. And he knows that's a possibility; nobody's ever flirted with him before.

He doesn't reply for a while, just trying to figure out if he likes this boy, too. But, he realizes, he does. Texts from this boy brighten up his day. Every good morning text, every good night text, everything in between. He loves it, he really, really likes it.

"I think I'm starting to really like you, too."

* * *

Monday morning comes too soon. Too soon does he see the stupid smug face of Gregory Lestrade.

But, just as quickly as he sees Greg, he gets a text.

"Morning : )"

Mycroft taps out a quick reply, then sets his phone in his locker.

"What's up, buttercup?"

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "Go away."

Greg doesn't say anything to that, he just reaches into Mycroft's locker and pulls out a book. Mycroft watches as Greg drops it to the ground. He sighs. Greg does it again.

Mycroft hears Greg's phone vibrate in his pocket, so he bends to get his books off the floor while Greg is distracted. When he stands, he notices Greg's face has a stupid smile. Mycroft thinks it's a happy smile, because it's not one Mycroft's ever seen. He looks happy, almost bashful, and there's a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Someone important?" Mycroft asks. "Not that I care."

"Well, not that it's any of your business, but yes. Someone important."

"New girlfriend?"

"You could say that."

Mycroft eyes him, but he really doesn't care enough to pry any further. Plus, his phone vibrates again, so he picks it up.

"How did you sleep?" the message reads.

Mycroft smiles. He replies, "I slept well. How about you?"

"Oh no way," Greg says next to him. Honestly, Mycroft forgot he was there. "Don't tell me you've got a girlfriend?"

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "No, I don't, if you must know."

"Of course, because no girl would ever be crazy enough to go out with a loser like you."

Mycroft slams his locker shut and turns to Greg. "No, as a matter of fact, it's not because no girl wants to go out with me," he says, stepping past Greg. His stomach flips with nerves and he adds, "It's because it's not a girl."

The shocked look on Greg's face is priceless. It's what helps Mycroft get through the day happy.

* * *

Greg doesn't bother Mycroft again for a few days, and for that Mycroft is thankful. With his new distraction, he really doesn't want Greg taking his mind away from the mystery boy.

Thinking about nothing but the mystery boy, he's glad that he's being thought of, too. That's why he's happy when mystery boy makes a suggestion.

"I think we should meet."

Mycroft bites his lip, as if the boy can see him. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Don't you?"

"I don't know. What if you don't like me when you meet me?"

"I like you here. Are you someone else in real life?"

"No, of course not."

"Then I want to meet you."

Mycroft still feels nervous. "What if you…don't like what you see?"

"I'm attracted to your brain. I'm pretty sure I'm going to find the rest of you beautiful, too."

Mycroft blushes. He actually _blushes_. He's never ever blushed before.

"Oh my god," is all he can think of to reply.

"Same for you, what if you don't find me attractive?"

Mycroft didn't even think of that. He hasn't ever really found anyone attractive, but this is the first person he's ever liked, so he just assumed he'd find them attractive.

"I probably will."

All he gets is a smiley face in return.

"So," Mycroft replies, "Should we meet at school or outside of school?"

The reply comes almost instantly. "Outside."

"That was fast. You thought about this?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry. See, my friends…they don't know I like boys. And they might get mean if they see us together."

"They don't have to know we're…whatever we are."

"They'd know if I just walked up and kissed you the moment I met you."

Mycroft smiles into his phone. "Would you?"

"I might. I might be overcome with my feelings for you."

"Do you often randomly kiss people?"

"Would it be unwelcome?"

Mycroft thinks that over. He's never even kissed anyone before. But he likes this person so much already that he wants to know what it'd be like.

"No, it wouldn't."

"Then we should meet outside of school. How about the library?"

"Sure," Mycroft says. "I like the library."

"Good, me too. So we'll meet at the library on Friday afternoon."

"Great," Mycroft says now, his stomach filling with butterflies.

"I can't wait."

"I can't either :)"


	4. Listen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ""Oh god no," Mycroft mutters, laying eyes on the boy sitting at the table."

Friday rolls around and Mycroft is excited all day. This stupid text "relationship" they've been having for over a month now is finally to come to an end, and Mycroft is very excited to find out who his mystery boy is.  _His,_ Mycroft rethinks. This boy isn't his.

He feels territorial anyway.

Mycroft is in too good a mood all day to even notice Lestrade approaching him outside in the courtyard during lunch. Greg is alone, which takes a little bit of Mycroft's anxiety off, but he's still nervous.

"What do you want?" Mycroft asks.

"To chat."

"I don't want to talk to you."

Lestrade shoves Mycroft's backpack off the bench and sits where it was. Mycroft sighs and reaches down to clean everything up that fell out.

"I came to offer a truce," Greg says.

"After just shoving my backpack off the bench?"

Greg shrugs.

"What if you broke something?"

"I didn't."

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "What do you want a truce for anyway?"

"I'm in love," Greg quickly says.

Mycroft is shocked by his honesty. "She must really have an influence on you, then."

Greg clears his throat, as if trying to hide something. "Yes," is all he says.

Mycroft doesn't care enough to find out what he's hiding. "Well, good for you. As long as she keeps you out of my hair, I don't care what the sudden revelation is."

"Great," Greg says, standing. "That's settled then."

Mycroft stares up at him. Greg is all off, he seems dazed. "Goodness," Mycroft says. "You alright, then?"

"What do you care?" Greg asks.

"I don't."

"Then why'd you ask?"

Mycroft shrugs. "Just being polite."

Greg's eyebrows furrow. "Thanks," he says.

"Alright…" Mycroft says. "We done, then?"

Greg's eyes confusedly snap back to him. "Huh? Oh. Yeah."

"Bye then," Mycroft pointedly says, wanting Lestrade to leave.

"Right, see ya."

Mycroft shakes his head as he watched Lestrade disappear back into the building.

 _What the hell was that?_ Mycroft asks himself.

* * *

Mycroft and the mystery boy made plans to meet at 4:15 PM, forty-five minutes after school lets out. It gives Mycroft the perfect amount of time to ride to the library, park his bike, then go inside to the restroom to freshen up. Riding around on a bike instead of a car makes him break a light sweat, and he doesn't wish to be gross when he finally meets this boy he's grown to like so much.

Mycroft gets a text when he's in the bathroom.

"I'm here. Table behind the science fiction section."

Mycroft shakes as he sets his phone down on the sink. He leans against it and drops his head between his extended arms. He takes a deep breath, then stands up straight to look at himself in the mirror again. He shrugs at his own reflection, thinking that this is the best he's going to get, then he puts his phone in his pocket and walks out of the restroom.

* * *

Mycroft wanders slowly back to the designated section. His body trembles, he begins to sweat again, and he can't stop his heart from beating faster with every breath.

He finally gets to the isle before the tables, and he pauses to attempt to shake the nerves out of his limbs. He takes one last deep breath, then steps around the corner.

"Oh god no," Mycroft mutters, laying eyes on the boy sitting at the table.

The boy's mouth hangs open.

"No, no, no, no," Mycroft chants over and over.

The boy,  _Lestrade,_ slowly stands and scrambles over to Mycroft. Mycroft backs up against the bookshelf.

"No way, no  _way,"_ Mycroft whispers.

Greg finally makes it over to him. "Mycroft, listen—"

Mycroft punches at his chest. "You bloody tricked me! You utter fucking arsehole, Lestrade! You knew the whole time!"

"I didn't, I promise!" Greg manages to push out. "I didn't know!"

"Then why aren't you as shocked as I am?!"

"I…I…I…"

"Oh my god," Mycroft sighs, dropping his hands to his knees and leaning down. "I can't breathe."

Greg touches his shoulder. "Breathe, relax. Take, uh…breath in for four seconds, then…uh…what is it? Hold your breath for seven, then breathe out for eight solid seconds."

"Are you trying to kill me?!"

"What?! No! It helps for panic attacks!"

Mycroft shakes his head, but he does it anyway. He stands up straight while he's holding his breath and looks into Lestrade's face. He looks concerned, scared, and vulnerable. And Mycroft's never seen him so quiet.

He lets out the shaky breath and notices Greg's hand is still on his shoulder. He looks down at it, and Greg yanks his hand away.

"How could you?!" Mycroft blows up again.

"How could  _I_?! I didn't do anything?!"

"You went on with it! You really had me going, you did, but now I—"

"What, you think I would've gone along with this if I knew it was you?!"

"Oh, right, my mistake.  _You're_ the one who is disappointed, right?"

"Me?!  _You_ hate  _me_!"

"I hate you because you are a complete dick to me, Lestrade! For years you've been tormenting me! And I don't even know why. What did I ever do to you?!"

"Nothing!" Greg yells.

"Then  _why_?! Why would you ever do something like this?!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

Mycroft rubs his forehead. He's so confused. He's doesn't know what's going on.

"Wait…" Mycroft mutters. "You said…you said you're in love."

Greg clears his throat. "I said that."

"Then…why? Greg, for god's sake, why are you so mean to me?"

"Well, clearly I wouldn't have been lately had I known—"

"Had you known. So, what? How do you feel now?"

"I feel…" Greg shakes his head. "I feel sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry that you wasted all your time?"

"Yes," Greg says, standing up straight and turning to Mycroft. "Sorry that I wasted so much time being so terrible."

Mycroft pauses, shocked by Greg's answer. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm sorry for being so awful to you for so long. I…I shouldn't have, I realize that."

"Why do you realize that?"

"Because…" Greg licks his lips. "Because I never knew you. And now I do. Don't I?"

Mycroft slowly nods.

"I'm so sorry. I promise you, this was not a trick. I didn't know it was you."

Mycroft rubs his forehead again. His heart is beating so fast and he feels another attack coming on.

And then it all happens so fast. There's a hand on his hip, one on his cheek, both pulling him closer until there's a body pressed against him and warm lips snug on his.

For a second, he just lets it happen. He lets Lestrade,  _Lestrade of all people,_ kiss him close mouthed but still, Mycroft has to admit, incredibly hot.

He's never thought of something to do with Lestrade as hot before. Sure, Lestrade is an obvious type of attractive, the type of attractive that could get him a lot of dates if he wanted. But Lestrade never dates anyone, Mycroft realizes.

 _Well,_ he thinks,  _clearly this is why._

Mycroft finally gets his head on and pushes Lestrade away. It's just a few inches, not far enough for Lestrade to actual break away or loosen his grip.

"I'm sorry," Greg whispers.

"For what?"

"For everything. For being an arse. For not finding out what I was being so terrible to all that time."

"I need to think," Mycroft says.

Greg presses his forehead against Mycroft's. "Take your time."

Mycroft finally pulls away fully. He grabs his backpack that he didn't even notice he dropped and walks towards the isles that'll lead him to the exit. He doesn't turn back, he just leaves Lestrade there at the tables.

* * *

Hours later, when Mycroft is in bed, he gets a text from the number he now knows by heart. His stomach turns with the memory of who is attached to it.

"I'll wait," is all the text says.

Mycroft doesn't reply.

A minute later, he gets another message.

"I've meant everything I've said."

Mycroft chooses not to reply again. Since he never gets any calls or texts anyway, he turns his phone off and intends for it to stay off all weekend.


	5. Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His brain is like an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Each side reminds him of what he's still thinking about.

He thought spending a weekend not talking to (Mycroft grimaces when he remembers that it's Greg) would clear his mind, but Monday morning arrives and he's still at a loss of what to do. He rides to school on his bicycle and thinks about why he's still even thinking about this.

His brain is like an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Each side reminds him of what he's still thinking about.

On one hand, Greg is a bully. Greg is his bully. Greg has spent the past few years doing nothing but mean things to him.

On the other hand, Greg isn't that mean. It could be worse. Eating his food and kicking his books is nothing compared to some bullies.

Still, Greg's friends beat Mycroft up last year.

Technically, Greg stopped it.

However, Greg's still pinpointed him for the past few years for no reason. Why him? What did he ever do to Greg?

But, he does tend to get equally as rude to Greg.

Wait, Greg deserves it.

Mycroft frowns.

He knows the only reason he's still contemplating this is because he really, really likes the person he's been talking to all this time. Sure, the fact that it's Greg makes his stomach turn, but that kiss didn't make him feel nothing. Maybe if they have a real conversation he'll actually get some answers and decide from there.

Mycroft rushes into the building to hopefully catch Greg before class starts. From now on, he wants every conversation they have to be face to face, so he can see if Greg gives him any hint of joking or lying. He wants to make sure Greg is telling the truth in what he says.

As expected, he catches Greg in the main hall into the building, that's where Greg usually hangs out with his friends before school. He looks over at Greg, catches his eye, and notices Greg's eyes brighten up just a little bit. It makes Mycroft want to smile.

But he doesn't. He just jerks his head in a 'follow me' motion, and is delighted when Greg instantly does exactly as asked.

Mycroft leads Greg through the halls to his locker, where they finally stop and Mycroft begins to trade books in and out of his locker.

"So?" Greg asks, breaking the silence.

By instinct, Mycroft wants to snap to Greg to tell him to shut up, which he doesn't see as a good sign, so he doesn't.

"I've been thinking," is what he does say.

"And?"

"And I've decided I…" Mycroft frowns, unable to hold his bag and move books around at the same time. He's about to set his book down on the floor when Greg reaches out to grab it for him. He takes Mycroft's bag and holds it open, allowing Mycroft to use both of his hands. It's nothing to Mycroft; it happens as though it was natural.

"You have decided…"

Mycroft stuffs a book into his backpack. "I need more time to think."

Greg laughs. "You wanted to talk just to tell me that you don't want to talk?"

Mycroft looks at his face. Greg is smiling. He doesn't at all look like his time is being wasted or like is just waiting for Mycroft to get the punchline of a joke. He looks content; he has the same smile on his face that Mycroft noticed last week when Greg was texting.

Texting him. This smile is because of him.

"I do have one question for now," Mycroft says.

"Okay?"

"How are you still so happy after finding out that it's me?"

Greg shrugs. "Because…because you're you."

"Yeah, exactly. I'm me. You hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"Okay, you were a bully to me for years."

"True, but I've spent the past few weeks trying not to develop feelings for a person I was talking to on a piece of paper, and now you're real. I don't care that you're you, I care that you're you."

Mycroft stares at him. "That doesn't make any sense."

Greg still smiles. "I know."

Mycroft rolls his eyes and takes his bag from Greg. "You're an idiot."

Greg shrugs.

Mycroft steps around him to walk down the hall.

"Can I text you?" Greg asks.

"No," Mycroft says. "I want all of our conversations to be in person from now on."

"Okay," Greg cheerily says. "I'll talk to you later, then."

Mycroft sighs. "If you must."

Greg smiles at him once before disappearing down the hall to go to his class. Mycroft can't help it, he smiles back.

Apparently, Greg decides to give Mycroft space that first day during lunch, but on Tuesday Greg is there to be a pest.

"I really have to get this chapter read before lunch ends," Mycroft says, not looking over when Greg delicately moves his backpack and sits on the bench facing Mycroft.

"Isn't that homework? We have, like, two days to read."

"I know, but I don't care to do any other work than math and science when I get home. If I don't read it now, I won't at all."

"Reasonable," Greg says. "I probably won't read it at all."

"Typical."

"Well, I didn't have to when someone told me the entire plot of the last five chapters we've had to read."

Mycroft breaks his gaze on the book to glare at Greg. "I won't be doing that again."

"Aww, why not?"

"You should do your own work."

"You didn't say that last week when—"

"When I didn't know you're a lazy—"

"You're being mean."

Mycroft looks at him again. "I'm being mean?!"

"Yes! I came out here to try to talk to you. I won't leave until we have a pleasant conversation."

"Fine," Mycroft says, going back to his book. He takes a quick bite of his sandwich, then holds it over as an offer to Greg.

Greg takes a bite of it while it's still in Mycroft's hand.

"Isn't it funny?" Mycroft asks. "We've been sharing food for years. Well, you've been stealing my lunch for years."

Greg frowns. "I'm sorry."

Mycroft glances at him. "Why don't you leave when I say mean things to you? Shouldn't you not like that?"

"Well, I don't like it. But I've done the same to you for a long time, so I guess I deserve it."

"Fair enough."

"How long do you think you're going to keep saying mean things to me?"

Mycroft shrugs.

"Okay," Greg says. "Can I have another bite of your sandwich?"

Mycroft pushes it towards Greg's face.

As Greg's taking another bite, Mycroft remembers a conversation they had a few weeks ago. Greg had said that he never eats lunch at school because he hardly ever has any lunch money, unable to get some from his parents. Mycroft shakes his head in realization; this is why Greg always steals his lunch. It's not right, sure, but it's unfair that Greg is lunchless when he's clearly hungry.

Mycroft reaches into his pocket and pulls out the few bills he has. "Here," he says, handing it to Greg.

"What's this for?"

"Go buy lunch."

Greg furrows his eyebrows. "No, I—"

"Frankly I'm tired of you stealing my lunch. And now that I know why, I have a solution so that we can both eat the appropriate amount of lunch. Take it."

"Mycroft, I—"

Mycroft looks back at his book. "I won't talk to you until you do."

Greg laughs. "That's ridiculous."

Mycroft doesn't say anything.

"I'm not taking your money."

Still, silence.

"Mycroft?"

Mycroft doesn't even act like he heard Greg.

"Ugh," Greg groans, then takes the money from Mycroft and gets up.

Mycroft smiles as he looks over the top of his book to watch Greg go into the building.

Greg returns minutes later with his own sandwich, crisps, apple, plus a banana, a cookie, and a carton of milk.

"Hungry?" Mycroft asks.

"Yeah," Greg says. "Thanks. A lot, really, thank you."

"You're welcome," Mycroft says, watching Greg dig in to the sandwich.

Mycroft stops and realizes how odd his life has become. He's sitting there, just bought Greg lunch, and is glad that the boy is eating. He never thought he'd ever feel sorry for Greg, but he does, seeing how hungry Greg is. He feels good for having just done this for Greg, for…for taking care of someone he cares about.

Mycroft doesn't notice he's staring at Greg until Greg's eyes lock with his.

"What?" Greg asks.

Mycroft snaps out of it. "You're distracting me."

"Oh…" Greg mutters. "Sorry."

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "You don't have to apologize."

"Alright, then."

Mycroft goes back to his book and Greg continues eating. The silence is surprisingly comfortable, which is another thing Mycroft never expected in his wildest dreams. Comfortable with Greg Lestrade, who would have thought?

With two minutes left in lunch, Greg starts cleaning up their bench and taking it all to the trash.

"Thanks for my lunch," Greg says when he returns.

"I already said you're welcome. And stop stealing my lunch, just ask me for money."

"I don't want to do that."

"Then I'll get two lunches every day."

Mycroft notices Greg crack a smile.

"Does that mean I can have lunch with you every day?"

Mycroft sighs. "If you must," he says, standing and grabbing his bag.

"Okay," Greg says, sounding in disbelief.

"What's wrong with you?" Mycroft asks.

"Nothing, I'm just happy."

"Your smile is stupid."

"I don't think yours is stupid. But I don't see it enough to judge fully."

"Well, spending years pointedly making me frown would be why you have rarely seen my smile."

Greg frowns again.

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

Greg doesn't say anything, but a second later he leans in to Mycroft with his lips puckered.

Mycroft presses a hand to Greg's face. "What are you doing?"

"I was going to kiss you," Greg says into Mycroft's palm.

"No."

Greg steps back. "Okay."

"Keep your mouth to yourself."

"Alright."

The bell rings and Mycroft makes his way back to the building, Greg right on his heels.


	6. Nondate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It is annoying. You try finding someone attractive when you're not supposed to."

For the rest of the week, they fall into a routine at lunch. Mycroft gets his lunch and Greg's, then Greg joins him after making a short appearance with his friends. Mycroft did ask where his friends think Greg is, and he tells Mycroft that they don't care enough to ask, so he doesn't have to make excuses.

"Would you make an excuse?"

"Yeah," Greg answers.

"Why?"

"Because if I said I'm having lunch with you, they might feel the need to come out here and join us."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you would be in danger."

"You're not afraid for you?"

"No, I'm afraid they'd come out here to hurt you."

"Oh," Mycroft says. He didn't expect that answer. "Okay."

* * *

Mycroft makes it known that he again doesn't want to talk all weekend. He lets Greg know that he's still trying to decide what he wants to happen, and that he still only wants to talk in person.

On Monday in Mycroft's literature class, they need their books again. There hasn't been a note in the book for weeks, not since they started texting, but today there's a little scrap of paper stuck into the page Mycroft needs to read.

Confused, he unfolds it.

"I'll miss you this weekend," is all it says.

Mycroft's heart beats quickly. Since they started talking in person, not much talk goes on about feelings. When it was just texting, the nerves are eased because you don't have to say something like that face to face, but in person there's the fear of being rejected right to your face. Mycroft knows that this is why Greg doesn't say things like that in person, too, especially since Mycroft is the one that would shoot him down.

Mycroft folds the little paper up and stuffs it in his pocket.

* * *

"Do you find me attractive?"

Mycroft lifts his gaze off the book he's reading, but doesn't look at Greg. "What?"

"Do you find me attractive?" Greg repeats.

It's the first they've talking about something like this in person. As a matter of fact, it's the first they've talked like this in a long time, not including the note Mycroft found four days ago.

"Uhm…"

"I just thought I'd ask."

Mycroft looks at him. "Do you find me attractive?"

"Yeah," Greg says, a slight blush to his cheeks. "I do."

"Why?"

Greg laughs. "What do you mean why? You're…y'know…aesthetically pleasing."

Mycroft laughs, too. "Ignoring that, I meant…well, do you find me attractive because you like who you were talking to over notes, or do you find me attractive besides that."

"Besides that," Greg confidently says. "I've always found you attractive."

"You have not."

"I have, too. You don't know how I feel."

"Then why has half of your bullying included 'Your face is annoying'?"

"It is annoying. You try finding someone attractive when you're not supposed to."

Mycroft shakes his head in confusion, but he connects the dots quickly "Wait. Are you telling me that the reason you were so mean to me for so long was because you liked me?"

Greg bites his lip. "I…I guess, but…I didn't realize for a really long time that that's why I was—"

"You're such a dick!"

"I just didn't realize it! And by then it made me angry, I didn't want to like you. But I didn't really like  _you,_ I liked—"

"Liked what?"

"Your face."

Mycroft laughs. "I can't believe this. You liked my face?"

"Yes, I've always thought you were cute."

"You did?"

"Yes. And I guess...I don't know, I guess I wasn't secure enough with myself to admit it because I didn't realize it for a long time. I didn't realize why seeing you made me so angry."

"So then…you promise you didn't know it was me when we started talking?"

"Yes, I swear to you that I didn't know."

"And when you found out it was me?"

"When you walked around the corner in the library, I just…I felt…I was really happy."

"Happy? Why?"

"Because who I was talking to and had intense feelings for was attached to the face that had been torturing me for years."

"Really? I felt the same way."

For the first time when Mycroft says something like that, Greg laughs.

Mycroft laughs, too. "Why are you laughing?"

Greg groans and rubs his eyes. "I'm such an arse. I don't know why I'm still trying, you're never going to give me a chance."

"Clearly, I am giving you a chance."

Greg looks up.

"I could have told you to piss off the moment I saw you. I could've punched you when you kissed me. I could've done anything other than say I had to think about it. This really is me giving you a chance."

Greg nods. "I know."

Mycroft reaches over and tentatively puts his hand over Greg's. "You just hurt me a lot and…you have to understand how hard that is."

"I do, I mean, not first hand, but I…I do understand."

"I need to know that you've really changed."

"How can I show you that I have?"

Mycroft shrugs. "I don't know."

Greg slowly flips his hand around so he can lace his fingers in Mycroft's. Mycroft watches, and it feels natural. He doesn't feel nervous, but he feels excited.

* * *

On Friday, Greg meets Mycroft at the bike rack to ask if they can see each other outside of school.

"Do you want to?" Mycroft asks.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to."

Mycroft shrugs, trying to act like he doesn't care. On the inside, he's doing flips. Is this a date? Is that what he wants? A date? With Greg?

"We don't have to," Greg says, disappointed.

"No," Mycroft says, quickly. "I…okay, yeah, we can get together outside of school."

Greg smiles widely. "Great."

They make plans to just go to the park to take a walk. Mycroft knows that's what Greg wants because Greg won't have money to do anything else, and though Mycroft could offer to pay, a cruel part of him doesn't want to make it a real date. He wants to leave Greg wondering, he doesn't want to give Greg any sort of satisfaction.

"I'll meet you at the park at two, okay?"

Mycroft nods.

Greg keeps smiling. "Okay. Bye, then."

Mycroft gives a little wave, then rides away on his bike.

* * *

Mycroft is nervous the entire next day. They've never seen each other outside of school, so he doesn't know what's supposed to happen. Are they supposed to hold hands? Are they supposed to kiss?

When he finally sees Greg in the park, he's at ease. He hadn't noticed before now how much being in Greg's presence calms him, makes him so happy that he forgets everything around him.

 _When did that happen?_ Mycroft asks.  _Somewhere between 'I hate your annoying face' and 'I'm in love'?_

Mycroft slowly approaches him and tries to hide a smile.

"Hello there," Greg says. "Fancy seeing you here."

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "Shut up."

Greg smiles widely. He grabs Mycroft's hand and pulls him further into the park.

"Come on," Greg happily says. "You like ice cream?"

"Uhm…"

"Well, your favorite flavor is  _boring_  vanilla, yes, but this cart around the corner has the  _best_  vanilla ice cream in the city."

Mycroft tries to hide his smile, but he can't, so he smiles widely and follows Greg through the park.

* * *

Mycroft goes home from their date/non-date extremely happy, which is something he never thought possible. There are a lot of surprises going on, but the sweet side of Greg is by far the most shocking. Seeing Greg outside of school is like unlocking a new person; sure, Greg had been different towards Mycroft since finding out Mycroft was the person he'd been talking to, he'd even been different since a few days before then.

But Greg still wasn't the person Mycroft was talking to over text in person, not until they met outside of school. He was kind, sweet, talking easily about many things (like they had over text) and telling Mycroft all day how great he is. Mycroft couldn't believe it.

That doesn't mean he didn't like it. He loved it, as a matter of fact. His heart felt full and he forgot all day who Greg was before all of this. It felt natural when Mycroft looped his arm in Greg's. It felt right when Greg kissed him at the end. It felt wonderful.


	7. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can we kiss some more?"

"When can I start texting you again?" Greg asks the Wednesday after their 'date'.

"I don't know," Mycroft says. He hadn't thought about it until now. "Why?"

"Because I want to."

Mycroft eyes him. "Why?"

"Because I hope that by being able to text you, it'll scratch the itch that I have."

"Itch?"

"The itch in my brain," Greg says, tapping his head. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Mycroft cracks a smile. "Fine," he concedes. "If you must."

Greg smiles. "Also, I have another question."

"Sure."

"Can we kiss some more?"

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "What?"

Greg laughs. "My lips…they feel so tingly every time I'm near you. Every time I think about you. Like you're a magnetic pull and my lips are…"

"Magnet?" Mycroft asks, unimpressed. He doesn't look at Greg, he just continues reading his book.

Greg blushes harshly and buries his face in his hands. "Oh god. Why do you even talk to me, I'm such a loser!"

"Loser, yes. Unpoetic, yes. But…"

Greg looks up. "But?"

Mycroft shrugs. "I don't know."

He notices Greg begin to smile. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Greg's hand slowly reaches for him.

Greg pokes his side. "You like me."

"No, I don't."

"Yes you do. I know it."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you don't punch me every time I come near you."

"I want to."

"Do you?"

Mycroft shrugs again. "Maybe I do."

"I'd probably let you."

"Why?"

"Because I'd probably just be thankful that you're touching me."

This makes Mycroft laugh. "You're a sap."

"I know, but I really want to say the right thing so you will—"

"Oh for god's sake—" Mycroft says, at the same time grabbing Greg by the shirt collar. He pulls Greg across the bench so he can stick his tongue halfway down Greg's throat.

Greg moans. He actually  _moans._ Mycroft's heard of this concept –pleasure, want,  _arousal—_ but feeling it first hand is different than reading about it wondering why you're not feeling it like other kids your age.

Greg's hands stay braced on the bench, for that Mycroft is thankful. He becomes aware very quickly that they're still at school, but the thought is second to the want to continue kissing Greg. He tastes sweet like jam; his tongue is hot and slick like much needed warm tea on a cold day; his lips are soft and giving like a rose petal.

All in all, Mycroft is drowning in the pleasure that is this kiss, and he never wants to go up for air again.

Unfortunately, that would be too perfect, because they're interrupted less than a second later.

"Ahem."

Mycroft breaks away quickly, snapping his eyes up to the interruption.

Greg slowly sits up straight and follows Mycroft's gaze.

"Can I help you?" Greg asks his friend who is staring at them with wide eyes.

"Hank's looking for you."

Greg nods. He's about to tell his friend to tell Hank (his best friend) to wait a minute when Hank and a group of people run out of the building.

"Greggy, settle something for us, will you? I said—" Hank stops when he catches up with what's happening on the bench. "What's this?" he asks anyway.

Greg licks his lips and starts to stand. "Listen, Hank—"

Hank pushes Greg away. "I'm not talking to you. You," Hank points at Mycroft.

Mycroft scrambles off the bench. "I'm out of here," he says, gathering his bag and rushing towards the building. He knows Greg can take care of himself. He's pretty sure Hank isn't going to hurt Greg, anyway.

He gets all the way to the doors of the building when he finally hears Greg speak.

"Mycroft, wait."

Mycroft lets the door go and slowly turns around.

"I have something I need to say," Greg says.

Hank crosses his arms and watches Greg. "Go ahead."

Greg clears his throat. "I…well, yeah. I love Mycroft and I don't care if you want to be intimidating. I don't even care if you punch me. I love him and I…" Greg smiles. "That's it."

Mycroft keeps his mouth shut, but his heart feels like it's going to leap out of his chest. He's never felt joy like this. He's never had someone who wanted to proudly announce even being friends with him; he's never even had anyone say his name without disgust.

"You love him?" Hanks asks.  _He_ sounds disgusted.

"Yep, I sure do."

The wording makes Mycroft laugh.

Hank looks at him. "You have something to say?"

Mycroft shakes his head, still laughing. "Nope. I think Greg said it all."

"And listen," Greg gets Hank's attention again. "Now you know all of my secrets, just remember that I know all of yours."

Hank frowns deeply. He nods once and backs away. "Fine, I think we're done here."

"Good. Leave us alone, then."

Hank leaves without saying another thing. Everyone who wandered out with him follows, but a few people give Greg a 'thumbs-up' as they pass. Greg smiles at them, he even smiles at everyone who glares.

Once everyone's gone, Mycroft runs to Greg and throws his arms around Greg's neck. Greg laughs and catches him, squeezing as tight as Mycroft is.

"That was wonderful," Mycroft whispers.

"You're wonderful."

Mycroft rubs his nose against Greg's cheek and runs his fingers through the hair on the back of Greg's head.

They stand that way for a minute, just hugging, when Greg finally breaks the silence.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

Greg chuckles. "Were you really just going to leave and let Hank beat me to a pulp?"

Mycroft bites his lip. "Uhm…" he decides to divert the question. "Ssshh, no more questions. We're hugging."

Greg laughs fully now. "Alright," he agrees, then squeezes Mycroft tighter.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's up, buttercup?" Greg cheerfully asks. He hasn't seen Mycroft since lunch and he needed to find Mycroft as soon as the bell rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, my apologies! I forgot to upload the last chapter! Forgive me! Also, good news, I'm almost done with this story from Greg's point of view. It's panned out a lot, we learn about why Greg acts the way he does and things like that. So enjoy this and look out for the next one!

"What's up, buttercup?" Greg cheerfully asks. He hasn't seen Mycroft since lunch and he  _needed_ to find Mycroft as soon as the bell rang.

Mycroft sighs. "I hate when you call me that."

Greg grabs Mycroft's backpack and holds it so Mycroft can stuff all the junk from his locker into it. "Why?" he asks, "I'm trying to be cute."

"Can you do it while not being degrading?"

"Degrading? How's that degrading?"

"How would you like it if I called you names?"

Greg leans against the locker next to Mycroft's, trying to seem cool.

"You can call me what you called me last night—"

"Shut up!" Mycroft snaps.

Greg laughs. He leans in and kisses Mycroft's cheek two times. Usually he goes with three, and he didn't think the last would be missed, but Mycroft gives him a sideways glare, so Greg kisses him again.

"Lestrade!" they hear during the third. Greg doesn't want to pull away, the softness of his boyfriend's cheek really taking precedence over his friend interrupting, but Mycroft pulls his face away first. Greg turns to see his good friend Bobby walking towards them.

"We're playing a bit of football outside in ten," Bobby says. "You in? Or do you have to check with the mister?"

Greg laughs and blushes. "Yeah mate," he says, high-fiving his friend. "Be right out."

"Great," Bobby says. "Hey, Myc!"

Mycroft waves as the other boy walks away. Greg watches fondly, glad that his friends came around to the idea of him and Mycroft together.

"Well, guess I'm off then," Greg says a second later.

"You said we were going to start summer vacation together."

Greg frowns. "We can! Just…in a few hours."

Mycroft rolls his eyes and closes his locker. Greg hands him his backpack.

"Fine," Mycroft says. "Let's have dinner."

Greg grins, butterflies waking in his stomach. "You asking me out, Holmes?"

"I believe I am, Lestrade."

"Be warned," Greg says, "I have a boyfriend."

Mycroft laughs. They're at the front doors, so Greg pulls Mycroft to him.

"As do I." Mycroft reaches to fix Greg's shirt collar. "And he happens to be very, very hot after football."

Greg's heart beats faster. "Hot, huh?"

Mycroft leans in and breathes against Greg's lips. "Sexy, even."

Greg licks his lips, his skin now on fire and something warm blooming in the pit of his stomach. He looks at Mycroft through heavy eyelids.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Mycroft says, kissing Greg lightly.

"Maybe I don't need to go to football after all," Greg gets in while Mycroft pulls away to shift his head for a better angle to kiss.

"Go to football," Mycroft says after killing Greg with kisses. "I'll meet you for dinner."

"Okay," Greg whines.

"I love you," Mycroft tells him. "Be careful. No broken bones today. We just got over the hand incident, we don't need any more."

"Yes, sir."

Mycroft smiles.

"I love you too, by the way."

Greg is rewarded with another kiss, then Mycroft is gone before he knows it.

Greg walks back towards the locker room to change for their makeshift football match. He smiles the entire way, unable to believe where his life is now compared to where it was eight months ago.

Eight months ago he was so lonely that he tore out a piece of paper and wrote "Hi" on it in hopes that someone would answer. Someone did, and now he's happy as could be with that someone.

As a matter of fact, Greg never thought he could be this happy, especially with the boy he bullied. Sure, every day he regrets being so mean to such a fantastic person, to someone he's grown to love so much, but now he's thankful every day that Mycroft forgave him, because missing out on this would've probably killed him.


End file.
